


Space Pod

by agent85



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Agents of SHIELD Pre-Season 5 Space Speculation, Angst, Better Post This Now Before the Promo Material Proves Me Wrong, Discussion of Awful Things that Happened to Fitz in Season 4C, F/M, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 11:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12168360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/pseuds/agent85
Summary: "What's happening?"He observes their small room, looking for clues, but she only sighs."I don't know. I remember being in the diner with the team, and then . . ."Fitz narrows his gaze at her. "Yeah, we were going to order pie, and we got arrested."She nods. "I don't know what happened after that. I've spent the last hour trying to triangulate our location." When he looks at her with a silent question, she nods towards the window. Fitz follows her gaze to find a field of stars."We're in space," she says.(Based offthis prompt, which I adopted from Pi's AOS Hiatus Ficathon.)





	Space Pod

**Author's Note:**

  * For [memorizingthedigitsofpi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorizingthedigitsofpi/gifts).



> A big thanks to [recoveringrabbit](http://archiveofourown.org/users/recoveringrabbit/works) for the beta and for just being the best all the time always.

If Jemma had ever anticipated how much she would enjoy watching Fitz sleep, falling in love with him might have turned out much differently. It's not that sleep changes or reveals him as much as it allows her quiet feelings to pour out and fill the space between them. She has always had this affection for him, even when he drowned it out with complaints and sarcasm; even when she was too afraid to acknowledge it. But if she was ever in a situation like this, where she could do nothing but measure the feelings he stirs in her heart, that affection might have deepened into the love she has for him now. Even as her stomach growls, even as she shivers in the cold, her one concern is that if she'd only understood the workings of her own heart, they could have had more time.      

And here, time might be all that they have left. 

That's what she really would have learned if she'd watched him sleep back in their SciOps days: how much she loves to be with him and how deeply she misses him. Now, when he's blinking back up at her, she feels an odd sort of relief.

"You looked so peaceful sleeping," she says, smiling down at him. "I didn't want to wake you, but I'm glad you're up."

The contentment disappears from his face as he looks around, frowning.

"What's happening?"

He observes their small room, looking for clues, but she only sighs.

"I don't know. I remember being in the diner with the team, and then . . ."

Fitz narrows his gaze at her. "Yeah, we were going to order pie, and we got arrested."

She nods. "I don't know what happened after that. I've spent the last hour trying to triangulate our location." When he looks at her with a silent question, she nods towards the window. Fitz follows her gaze to find a field of stars. "We're in space," she says. 

He struggles to get up, but she stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Careful," she warns, "you broke your arm. Same two places as . . ."

He looks down, frowning at her makeshift splint. "Same two places I broke it in the last pod we were stuck in."

Jemma swallows, somewhat glad that he notices the similarities she's been drowning in since she woke up. 

"I guess we're lucky," says Fitz, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position. "At least we're not at the bottom of the ocean this time. Or in chains."

"Who do you think has us?" She picks up a packet of food and hands it to him. "I've found these, but they don't have any branding on them. And yet, somehow they have a SHIELD-issue pod to keep us in."

"Could be another government agency," Fitz offers. "We used to share technology with the military. And NASA." He looks down, picking at lint on his shirt. "Guess they haven't done enough to ruin our lives."

She tries to smile, but it falls flat when it's not returned. He should smile, she thinks. If anyone deserves to smile, it's him. 

"Hey," she says, "it's . . . it's okay." She shifts her body until she faces the door. "We'll just, we'll blow the door out like before, and then—"

"And then we'll find ourselves in the midst of an unknown number of mystery assailants," he says. "That may not even be human. And if we don't want to do that, we can blow out the window and let our blood boil in the vacuum of space."

She cocks her head at him. "No," she says. "We'll find our way out, won't we?"

She watches him, knowing that not too long ago, he was willing to give himself up to pay the price for sins he didn't actually commit. But the starlight streams across his skin, making him glow and leaving her breathless. She is here in a pod with a brave, selfless, beautiful man, and that's enough to make her feel a sense of endless possibility.

"It's fitting we're here together, Fitz," she says. "This is where we began. From my perspective, anyway."

Fitz lets out what almost sounds like a scoff as he examines his makeshift sling. "Yeah," he says. "Us."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he says. "It's just . . . I told you the cosmos were against us, and now here we are, trapped in the cosmos." 

"Well," she says, "if we have to be trapped anywhere, at least we have each other." 

He turns to her, and she sees that same surprise she saw when she stood with the team and refused to let him stay behind. Doesn't he know she'll always fight for him? Doesn't he see, now that he has the memories of two lives, that she was fighting for him the whole time she was in the Framework?

"Yeah," he says, as if he's admitting a crime. "At least we're together."

She lets the silence wrap itself around them as she takes him in, seeing that the weight of two worlds has once again been laid on his shoulders. How can she make it slide off of him?

"This is all I wanted, the whole time we've been together," she says. "Time to actually be together."

He looks at her with another one of his questions, but she meets it with confidence until he softens.

"That's all I wanted, too."

She can't help her smile this time, even as he continues to frown at his lap. These stark circumstances can't stifle the love she has in her heart; it still burns and bubbles until it spills out of the corners of her mouth.

"Well then," she says, offering a hand, "why don't we take advantage of the time we have?"

He watches her for a moment, but then he nods, sitting up so she can lean into him. He wraps his good arm around her as she snakes an arm around his middle, laying her head on his shoulder. This is like another beginning they had, one where they licked their wounds after a long battle, knowing the fighting wasn't done. This is when she began to understand just how much strength they draw from each other.

"It was never like this with her," he confesses, almost in a croak. She looks up at him as he ducks his head in shame. "Not like this at all."

She only hears his confusion because she's looking for it, because there's a part of her that longs for it. As much as his silent cries break her heart, there's a part of her that needs to know they are the same.

"How could I—?"

_How could I think that was love?_

It's almost louder when he doesn't say it, ringing off the walls and filling the space with raw emotion.

"You couldn't," she soothes; "you never could."

"How can you say that?"

She meets his gaze with the conviction and sorrow of experience, even as the corners of her mouth continue to quirk upwards.

"Because," she tells him, "it was never like this with him."

She remembers her own confusion when she came back from Hell; the way she was surprised that her love for Fitz could be hard and soft, that it could be heavy and light. She reached for him when things got tough, yes, but she still hungered for him when her belly was full.

"I think," she says, "I think it's like being in the dark so long that something as small as a spark can blind you. You don't even think that there could be more than that."

Fitz nods as he slips out of their embrace, bowing his head and letting it rest between his knees. The silence fills their pod and she knows, she knows he will let them drown in it. But she pulled the both of them up for air once, and she won't let them sink now.

"My parents met on a night like this," she says, hugging her knees like he is. "Did I tell you?" She waits for a response, and continues when she hears none. "My dad had to work late one night, and he was about to board a train home when he saw a woman struggling to carry a load of boxes. She was wearing these ridiculous platform shoes, and she tripped and almost fell onto the rails." She pauses, tucking a lock of hair behind her ears as she feels Fitz's gaze on her. "But he caught her in time," she continues. "She didn't even know he was there until he saved her life."

Fitz's eyebrows raise towards his hairline. "He saved her?"

She smiles, nodding. "Yeah. My mum always says she felt a spark right away, that she knew he was the one the moment she laid eyes on him. He says the same, of course. She felt bad for making him miss his train, but he told her she could make it up to him by letting him take her for a walk under the stars."

"He would have known all the good spots for stargazing," offers Fitz.

She hums in agreement. "He was just a hobby astronomer back then. Didn't decide to take it seriously until-"

"You had your surgery," he finishes. "You told me this part. Teaching you inspired him."

"It inspired both of us," she agrees. She looks out into the field of stars and gulps, turning away as she is surprised by the pang of fear. "And now he teaches for a living," she covers. "And my mum loves him even more now than she did then. Did you know they got married a month after they met? They didn't want to waste any time." She takes in a deep breath and lets it out, forcing herself to once more look out into the great vastness of space, but unable to ignore the reflection of her and Fitz in the window.

"That's what I thought my life would be like," she says, looking down at her hands. "I thought I'd have some grand fairy tale. I'd meet someone and it'd be like someone flipped a switch: I'd know, and he'd know, and we'd live happily ever after."

Fitz bows his head, unable to face her. "But you didn't get it."

"No," she says, reaching out to put her hand over his. "Instead, I got the sunrise."

He looks down at their hands, then up at her. Why does he have all these questions? He's like a child standing at the edge of a lake, worried a nonexistent current will pull him in. She takes in a breath.

"I was foolish before, waiting for a hero. I've always seen my father as a hero, of course, but I never thought . . . I never would have romanticized what he did if I knew how much those heroics could cost." She puts a hand on his back and leans in, letting her fingers slide to the other side of him. "I should have waited for the first glimmer of light."

She senses it before his body shudders, and she pulls him into her arms to hold him tight. They have always preferred to cry this way, wrapped up in each other. This was the dark blue that would eventually explode into reds and pinks; the twilight that would make way for dawn. How can he say the cosmos are against them when they've had so many beginnings?

"My mum never talked about it," he says, his voice shaking. "Didn't talk about my dad that much at all, after he left. I don't know if they ever fell in love or if they just happened." He crumbles, but she holds him tighter, just like she did when he first came back, just like she will always do. "I saw it in movies, but it never seemed real. Not until it was."

She closes her eyes and wishes his hurt away, wishes she could find his cancerous memories and free him from their grasp. All she can do is help him find new pathways.

"We're not my parents," she says, "and we certainly aren't yours. And we're not what we were with anyone else."

He rubs at his eyes, but his breathing starts to slow down. "What are we, then?"

She takes a long second to look at him, seeing a man who is hardened by regret and remembering the man who was afraid of cowardice. 

"I don't know," she says. "I wish—"

"You wish you hadn't gone to save me," he says, like he's groaning out his last breath, but she's the one who can't breathe. "Because of what you saw me do.

"That's not what I—!" She has to take a breath in and out, because she's frustrated, but not by him. "Fitz, w— we'll probably be here for a while. I was hoping . . ." She purses her lips and makes herself take a breath, letting the air go in her lungs and out her nose. "We've been together and we've lived together, but we haven't talked about our future." She swallows, unable to look at him. "We've never talked about it, ever."

She hears him shift in his seat before she dares to look over at him and confirm her suspicions: his head is bowed, his eyes red.

"What about it?"

His question comes as a whimper, and she knows he's afraid, but his demons keep both of them awake at night. She lets her words come out gently.

"Do we have one?"

She takes the words out of her mouth and sets them down like a cup of tea on his desk. A breath catches in her throat as she waits to see what he'll do.

His eyes flick to hers, then up to the window.

"You shouldn't want a future with me, Jemma," he says. "You saw who I am."

"I saw who you could have been," she says, shifting in her seat. "But it's not who you are."

A part of her had hoped that this would be enough to make him smile, but most of her expected the reaction she gets: downcast eyes and a frown. 

"Fitz," she says, taking in a breath, "we've all done things we're ashamed of. What matters is what we do now to make it right."

"Jemma—"

"You're not the only person with flaws, Fitz!" Somehow, the statement comes out as more of a strangled accusation. "Do you think I would have done better if AIDA had chosen to use me?"

He closes his eyes and bows his head. "Yes."

She has to gulp and take a moment, or she will fly into a rage. He's been beaten down so many times and she can't stand the thought that the club is now in his hands.

"Well, you're wrong," she says carefully. "She had access to your thoughts, and she knew just how to use you. She would have known how to use me. And I know just how she would have done it."

Now, it's her eyes that are glued to the floor. She can feel him watching her, and there's a part of her that's asking why she ever brought this up, telling her that corpses are meant to stay buried. But she also feels the calm reminder that she has always been safe with Fitz. It is important to show him that she still feels that way.

She waits for the question, but it doesn't come.

"She would have killed you, if she wanted me to work for her," she blurts out. "But not the way she killed me. She would have let us be together first, let us fall in love and then she would have . . ."

"What?" Her heart races as she hears him turn towards her. "Have an Inhuman slit my throat?"

She nods, swallowing. "The things she had you do to win her love were the things I wanted to do to Ward after he took you away from me."

The silence that follows is filled with her regret, even though she knows that Fitz is simply confused. He's seen the darkest parts of her with his own two eyes and loves her too much to acknowledge their existence.

Fitz clears his throat in protest. "But you didn't—"

"I tried to, even after you told me it was wrong. Bakshi died because he got in the way."

"Yeah, but . . ."

_"Fitz."_

She wrings her hands as she recalls the way Bakshi fell to ash, as she remembers the victory that had swelled within her chest. The weight hadn't come until later, crushing her as she laid in bed and realized there had been another path. If she felt that way after killing one monster, she can't imagine the weight of dozens of innocents.

"You're a good man, Fitz," she says, reaching out again for his hand. "In another life, you didn't make the choice to be good. In this life, you did. That's what matters."

He shakes his head so violently that she wants to reach out and still him.

"He's still inside me, Jemma. The man my father—"

"Fitz, I understand how you feel," she says, "but you have to understand that—"

"I killed those people, Jemma. Real or not, I chose to—"

"You've spent a lifetime saving innocent lives! How can you possibly—"

"But I wanted to do it. In that life, I _wanted_ to do it." 

"Yeah," she says, "and in this life, wanted to marry me." 

They stare at each other as her words ring against the walls, echoing in Jemma's ears long after the pod has gone silent. She wanted to stop him and she has, but now he is frozen and gaping at her. She swallows, not sure if this is better or worse than her confession about Bakshi. She half expects the wall to cave in, that she'll have to dive for Fitz while the air is sucked out of the room. Instead, she watches his mouth hang open. 

"That's what someone told me, anyway," she says, taking a breath. "Is it true?"

His mouth closes, but he's still staring at her, like he's trying to decide if it's a trap. She supposes that it is. 

"I, um . . ." He pinches his eyes shut as his free hand flies to his temple. "How did you . . ."

"Why didn't you just tell me?" She looks down at the hand that holds his, spreading her fingers so his can fill the gaps. "You never brought it up."

His eyes follow hers and, almost as if it's against his will, he strokes his thumb up and down her skin.

"I told you, Fitz," she says, surprised when her voice starts shaking. "We're supposed to share everything."

He scoffs, and it would hurt her feelings if she didn't know he aimed the sting at himself.

"You don't want to hear about that," he says, "maybe you think you do, but . . ."

"Why wouldn't I want to hear about spending the rest of my life with you?" She tilts her head, frowning. "I gave you my video, Fitz. You knew how I wanted this to end before we even started."

He blinks at her, surprised. "Yeah, but that was . . ." 

She hopes he trails off because his arguments have fallen flat, because any argument he makes would crumble when he tried to put it into words. She's already debunked the objections he made when a new day dawned on them both. She can't imagine how he could contradict her now.

"I never thought I'd get married," he sighs, slumping against the wall. "It never seemed . . . it was always me and my mum."

She scoots in closer, using their twined fingers as anchor. "And me," she says. She places her head on his shoulder as her free hand slips behind him. "Did you really think I wouldn't be there?"

"No, but . . ." She can feel the sigh leave his lungs. "Jemma," he says, "marriage is a lot to ask. My parents couldn't do it."

"And my parents could," she says. "I've spent a lifetime seeing how it works."

"Yeah," he says, "but you said we weren't like them."

It's a cheap shot and he knows it. Why is he grasping for straws? He doesn't mean to hurt her, but he's making clumsy jabs, bruising them both. Maybe he'll stop fighting if she declares him the winner.

"I want to marry you, Fitz," she says. "I'll live my whole life and never want anyone but you, whether you marry me or not."

She lets herself bury into him in relief, glad she doesn't have to look at him in the aftermath of the words she's kept to herself. She's been standing on tiptoes too long, waiting for the chance to say it, and now she can enjoy the fact that he knows.

"Jemma," he says, "the Framework showed you who I am."

But she shakes her head, craning her head up so he has to meet her eyes.

"You're more than that, Fitz. I know it's not enough to explain it to you." She lets go of his hand to place her thumb on his jaw. "So please, let me show you."

Maybe it's not the time, but she's lost in space and she needs her best friend to know that she loves him. She knows his Framework life was thistles and thorns, so she moves in like a soft rose, admiring the petals of his lips before leaning up to taste them. She worries he will push her away, but she feels his fingers curl around her waist and sighs in relief. He is timid and careful, but he pulls her close, and she finds that this is the balm she needs. He was hers before they were ripped apart by the stars and the sea, and he is still hers now.

She kisses him deeply, only stopping when the tears drip down her fingers. She pulls back and he falls forward, resting his forehead on her shoulder as he sobs. He clutches at her, taking fistfulls of her shirt, and she moves so she can hold him properly. She will let him do this as many times as he needs it. These are old wounds made fresh; they will take time to heal. Like before, she finds tears of her own.

She's not sure how long they cry together, only that she is still shaken by fear as she wraps him up in her arms, holding him tighter as she considers the limitless possibilities that exist on the other side of the door. How long until he is taken from her again? Is it her turn to break his heart? The cruelest joke in the cosmos is that their cottage gets farther and farther away. 

"I'm not leaving you," she says, in answer to her own thoughts. "You're my best friend in the world."

Neither of their tears have stopped, but she needs to kiss him so she does: on the cheek, the temple, on the forehead. On his chin and nose. Her kisses grow frantic until he pulls her to his lips, and as always, he soothes her soul. He breaks away and brings her hand to his lips.

"I love you," he says.

"For how long?"

He's so confused that she can almost see his heart stop. She learned the answer at the bottom of the sea, but how long as he known this? Long enough that it seems like a law of the universe.

His brow furrows.  "Jemma, I—"

"Fitz," she says, "how long?"

He sighs, signaling defeat. "Forever."

"Well, then," she says, "maybe you should ask me to stay forever."

He shakes his head. "Jemma."

"If we've learned anything from history," she continues, "from _our_ history, it's that there are times when, no matter how much we _want_ to stay together, we think the other person wants us to leave."

He shakes his head again, more violently this time. "That never happened for me. I've always wanted—"

"Then stop asking me to leave you, Fitz." She cups his cheek.  "Ask me to stay."

She sees him wrestle with his self-doubt, and he's right. She has seen who he really is. But he thinks she will be repelled by his anger and hurt; instead she draws in to close the wounds. Her thumb grazes over his stubble, and he bows his head in her hand.

"Jemma," he says, "stay."

"Yes," she says, sliding her hand up so she can stroke love into his hair. "Yes."

This time, the silence wraps them in an embrace that warms her until there is a bubbling in her chest. This is the man who made her smile in rubble and ash, and this is the man who makes her heart sing now. She smiles, knowing that she has always wanted to be with him, and knowing she has always been right.

If anything is meant to be, it's that he will be with her at the end. A part of her knew this the last time they were trapped in a pod like this. The only difference is that now, the end is so far away that it has dipped below the horizon and out of sight.  

"I found it," he says, and she's so lost in dreams that she almost misses it.

"Hmm?"

"I found it," he repeats. "The cottage. Talked to your parents, traced your route. I found it."

She watches him, but he only lowers his eyes.

"It's not there anymore."

"What?" 

"I think there was a fire."

"Oh."

She wants to say something, some diatribe about how it doesn't mean they're cursed, but there's a hesitancy about him that stops her in his tracks. There's something he's waiting to say.

"But maybe w—maybe we could find another one."

She stares at him.

"When?"

He shrugs. "Whenever you want. When we find our way out of here."

Somehow, this is exactly what she needs to hear.

She falls against him, finally relaxing as she rests her head on his shoulder. When she looks out at the stars, smiling when she sees their reflection.

"We'll find our way out," she says.

"We will."

But for now, they will rest their weary bones, soaking in the silence and basking in the warmth of each other. Jemma drinks it all in, trying to memorize every detail from the specs of dust in the air to the way Fitz is playing with her left hand. She has to remember it, because they can get out and they will, and they'll find their friends and go back home where they belong.

And she has to be ready for that moment, when they ask why she glows in the shadows they will hide in, when they stand in the light and see that she's shining brighter.

This, after all, is another moment in which they began. And she wants to remember every part of it.

**Author's Note:**

> I regularly post sneak peeks and general ramblings about my writing on [my tumblr](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/tagged/Writings%20of%20Agent%2085).


End file.
